


Inheritance

by brandy01



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29839362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandy01/pseuds/brandy01
Summary: Despite having her own problems to deal with in the years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger surprises everyone, especially herself, by using what was left to her in order to bring a little happiness and laughter into the life of another.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/George Weasley
Kudos: 23





	1. Part One

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

* * *

The doorbell of the shop rang sharply as the last customer for the day passed through the door, leaving the remaining occupant in the room alone.

George Weasley sighed heavily, hauling his body, weary with exhaustion, off the stool behind the shop counter. He set about the task of closing up the shop for the night, casting a few cleansing charms and drawing the blinds on the front windows. When he was finished, he counted up the till for the day and put all of the takings into a money tin, placing the float for the next day in a safe beneath the bench. He secured everything, casting a few strong wards before leaving through the back door.

With the takings for the day tucked safely beneath his arm, George made his way towards Gringott's to bank the money and go home for the day. He left the money with the first goblin he saw upon entering, touching his wand to the depositing form and leaving as soon as he could. He hated going to Gringott's, but unfortunately for him, was unable to get out of performing the onerous task.

Once back on the street, he went to the nearest Apparation point and with a near-silent 'pop' disappeared from the spot and reappeared in his flat. He took off his dark purple robes, hanging them on one of the hooks by the front door. He felt his stomach rumble and vaguely recalled not having had the time to eat lunch during the day due to being too busy with the shop. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had been packed full of people all day until it was almost time for him to close up shop, and he and Fred had always agreed never to close the shop, even for lunch.

With another sigh, he went straight to the bathroom and got undressed, flicking his wand at the shower faucets and waiting until the water had adjusted itself to the perfect temperature. He stepped under the spray, allowing it to wash over him, soothing his sore muscles. He washed his hair and body, rinsing off before getting out and turning the water off. After casting a quick drying charm, he dressed in his pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat.

Half an hour later, he sat at his kitchen table alone, eating a bowl of cereal after not being able to summon the energy to go to more effort.

As he ate, George flipped idly through his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , not really reading any of the articles, instead focussing on the animated photos. He closed the paper and pushed it, along with his empty bowl, to the side before getting up and going to the sitting room, flicking his wand to light a fire in the grate. The warm orange glow washed over the room, illuminating the photos sitting on the mantle. He felt his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears as the glanced over the photos of his family, more specifically, when he gazed upon the photo of him and his twin, Fred.

They two of them were standing with arms around each other's shoulders, grinning and waving at him from the frame as they stood in front of their shop.

The photo had been taken the day of their shop's grand opening, and he could remember just how exhilarated and happy the two of them had been. It was their brainchild, built together from all of the grand ideas they had had in their minds – funded by a generous donation by Harry Potter. Even their mother, who had disapproved of their leaving Hogwarts before graduating, had been so proud and happy for them that day.

And now, he was all alone, nurturing the shop, spending day after day working until he wanted to pass out before going to bed, sleeping and then waking up to lather, rinse and repeat the entire process. He was like one of those Muggle robots – set on an automatic function, each day passing as if nothing was different or special. Everything had lost its brightness and colour for him. Everything was grey. He missed his other half in a bad way, so much that sometimes he found it hard to drag himself out of bed in the morning and go to work.

He felt the tears stinging his eyes and choked them back forcefully. He wondered when it would cease to hurt so much. He wondered if there would ever be a time when he would genuinely smile and laugh instead of just go through the motions for the sake of appearances. George reached up to touch the obsidian stone that sat beside the frame, picking it up and rolling it between his fingers. A moment later, the shimmering incorporation of his twin stood before him with a look of disappointment in his haunted eyes.

George reached out to try and touch him, as he always did to remind himself that the image was not actually his brother, his hand falling straight through him as though he were a projection. Fred clucked and shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes in the way it always had.

'Georgie, you know you'll need to stop doing this to yourself one day,' Fred's voice said. 'You'll die miserable and alone in this dingy old flat if you don't chuck this silly rock away and start living. No bird is ever going to want a bloke that can't stop bloody crying.'

George held back a sob that tried to wrench free of his throat. 'Freddie, it's not as easy as you'd like to think,' he said, the tears beginning to stream from his eyes. 'Look at you. You're not even real…'

Fred's image shrugged at him. 'Real or not, I know what someone looks like when they've been holding onto something they ought to have let go of, and you are the very definition of it. Live a little, okay?'

'What do you expect me to do?' George asked.

Fred smiled. 'Do what you do best,' he replied. 'Pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start inventing and creating again. Don't let our business go bust just because I'm not physically there beside you. I'll always be there for you anyhow, right there, in your heart. Live for both of us.'

George nodded and placed the stone back on the mantle, still crying softly. 'I'll do my best,' he said as the image of Fred faded away.

Swiping angrily at the tears that continued to escape his eyes, he walked back to the kitchen and cleared away his dirty bowl, tossing the newspaper into the bin.

He went straight to his bedroom after that, pulling down the covers and sliding between them. With a flick of his wand, he extinguished all of the lights in the flat, placing his wand on the nightstand beside the bed. Punching his pillow into shape, he laid his head down and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him. Maybe, just maybe, the colours would come back one day.

* * *

George looked up when he heard the doorbell of the shop ring, signalling the entry of yet another customer.

The moment he had opened the doors for the day, people had swarmed inside the shop, filling it with laughter and merriment. He forced a smile to his face to greet the new entry, and it grew even wider when he saw that it was his older brother Charlie. Despite being over-tired, his surprise and elation kept the smile on his face as he walked over to his brother and instantly gave him a tight hug, slapping him on the back in a friendly manner.

'It's good to see you,' George said, leading his brother over to join him at the counter, summoning an extra stool over.

'It's great to see you, and the shop seems to be doing well still,' Charlie said with a robust grin. 'Mum says you haven't been going home as often lately.'

'I go to Sunday dinner,' he argued automatically.

He had been getting the same line from nearly all of his siblings, especially Ginny, who had even started sending over Harry to hound him into visiting with everyone more often. George had hoped that he would have been spared the same lecture from Charlie, but it seemed that everyone had been turned into his mother's owl, all telling him the same thing. The last thing he wanted was to go back to The Burrow all of the time and constantly be reminded of Fred every time he saw one of his siblings.

Charlie sighed, but nodded understandingly. 'I know I don't really have a lot of room to talk, seeing as I am hardly ever home to see mum and dad,' he said seriously. 'But I am still myself. You've changed ever since the war. I know loosing Fred was harder on you than everyone else, but you need to come back to us. You'll soon be working yourself to death.'

'Business has been busier without Fred here to help,' George said, his tone flat.

'Then hire someone to help you with the shop,' Charlie said simply. 'You're obviously trying to do more than you can handle, so you might as well give someone a job and take a load off your shoulders.'

George considered his brother's advice for a moment. Perhaps he was right. Maybe getting an assistant to watch the shop would be a good idea. It would, at the very least, free up some more of his time to work on a new line of products. Though all of the products he already sold were doing well, he would need to continually introduce new things to keep people interested. And it would also satisfy all of the nosy family members that seemed to just keep popping in on him to make sure he hadn't harmed himself or fallen off the face of the planet.

'I'll think about it,' he answered reluctantly.

Charlie smiled at that. 'Well, now we're starting to make some progress,' he said, clapping George on the shoulder. 'Put an ad in the paper and you'll be sure to find someone crazy enough to work here with you. And do it before you turn into a complete recluse.'

'I'll look into it,' George said a little curtly, running low on patience for that particular topic. 'Sorry. I am just a little tired. I don't mean to snap.'

Charlie shook his head. 'It's fine,' he said quietly. 'I know you're probably getting sick of everyone treating you like a child by this point.'

'Something like that,' George replied.

'Well look, I'll be here for a couple of weeks doing some guest lecturing at Oxford on Dragons while the regular lecturer is ill,' Charlie announced, getting up from the stool he had been occupying. 'I'm staying with mum and dad, so if you want to catch up again while I'm in town, just owl me or come by the house.'

George nodded. 'I'll be coming over for Sunday dinner at any rate, so you'll see me then if not before,' he replied.

Charlie gave him a smile and, with a friendly hug, left the shop. George decided to check on the rest of the shop and mingle with his patrons, showing some of the younger customers how to use the products. He returned to the front desk after a little while, taking care of the customers who had selected their purchases, and at midday, people began to make their way off to lunch, leaving him alone in the shop to tidy and restock once more.

When he was finished, he sat down behind the counter with a blank journal, willing himself to concentrate so he could begin coming up with some new products. After a while, he realised he was simply too tired to be productive. Grumbling under his breath, he realised that Charlie had definitely been right – he was going to have to hire an assistant. Instead of working on new products, he picked up his quill and summoned a piece of parchment to him to draft up an ad to send to the _Daily Prophet_.

After he closed up the shop for the day, he made his way to the post office and sent his owl off to the _Prophet_ headquarters.

* * *

A soft 'pop' of Apparation sounded in the front hall, signalling the arrival of another visitor for dinner.

Hermione Granger wandered out of the kitchen in time to see George hanging up his robes on the hooks by the front door. She smiled, pleased to see that he had shown up for the Weasley family's Sunday dinner. Walking over to greet him, she put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn around and look at her. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but he put his arms around her in a hug, picking her up and spinning her around in the way he had taken to since knowing her.

'Hello, Granger,' he said teasingly, the sound of her surname on his lips making her smile.

'Hi George,' she replied as he set her back down on her feet. 'How has business been this week?'

'Busy as usual,' he answered as they two of them walked towards the kitchen again.

Hermione went straight to the stack of plates and cutlery on the bench, and together with George, took them to the dining room and started setting the table. Molly and Ginny came in soon after, carrying and levitating dishes of food along with them. She watched as the two other women hugged George before the rest of the family started trickling into the dining room, following the scent of dinner. Harry walked in, giving her a one-armed hug before joining Ginny on the other side of the table, leaving Hermione eventually seated between George and Ron.

Loud talking filled the room along with the clatter of cutlery on dishes. Hermione loved Sunday dinner at the Weasley residence – they were, after all, the only family that she had left, and she treasured their presence in her life. She listened as the people around her cheerfully got on with their meals, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't help but feel a moment of sadness. Even with the Weasleys' support, the loss of her own parents had left something of a hole in her life.

After the defeat of the Dark Lord, Hermione had gone to her parents with a representative of the Department of Mysteries and retrieved the memories she had erased. What she had not expected was the complete distrust and rejection she had been met with from her parents when they discovered what she had done. Despite her desire being merely to protect them, they had been unable to forgive her for tampering with their memories. The last time she had seen them, they had bequeathed her the entirety of the trust fund they had been holding for her, leaving her with a rather generous sum of money with which she was funding her education and paying for her living expenses.

However, they had both expressed a desire to be removed from her life, and unable to say no, she agreed to leave them alone.

It had left her in almost unbearable emotion pain to begin with. She'd spent days on end in bed crying, refusing to eat and ignoring almost everyone. Not even Harry and Ron had been able to make her feel better. After a week, she had emerged from Ginny's room at the Burrow, appearing to all as though she had recovered from her parent's rejection. After three years, she had well and truly recuperated, but there were still moments when the pain of the memory hurt her more than others, and she would be transported into her memories to a time when she had gotten along with her mother and father.

'Hermione?' a voice asked from beside her, returning her from her thoughts.

She turned to look at George and forced a smile onto her face, picking up her fork and skewering some food. 'What's up?' she asked.

'Nothing,' he replied, shaking his head and chuckling. 'You looked a little distracted is all.'

'Just thinking,' she said, waving him off and popping a bite of food into her mouth. 'Nothing unusual, I assure you.'

George offered her a small smile, which, much to her surprise, appeared to be genuine. 'You think too much for your own good, Hermione,' he teased.

Hermione punched his arm gently and beamed at him. 'Speak for yourself, Mr Weasley,' she retorted, turning her attention back to her food.

Dinner continued, followed by dessert. Hermione listened in to conversations here and there, catching snippets of updates from the various Weasleys and their spouses. Hermione caught the end of a conversation between Molly and Ginny as they discussed her upcoming nuptials with Harry. She personally thought the two of them were rushing into marriage too young. They had their whole lives ahead of them, and Ginny was still in the middle of her apprenticeship at St. Mungo's in the Mediwitch School. Harry had only just been promoted to Auror from training six months beforehand. Neither had established themselves professionally for very long, and to Hermione, that was impractical.

As dinner began to wind down and Bill, Fleur, Percy and Penelope left for the evening, Hermione helped the two Weasley women with the clean-up effort. Ron and Harry sat in front of the fire, playing a game of chess whilst Arthur and Bill stood by the fireplace smoking pipes. She wandered back into the sitting room after Molly had shooed her from the kitchen, insisting that she'd helped too much already. George was nowhere to be seen, and she was worried for a moment that he had left without saying goodbye to everyone.

She nearly jumped when she felt a hand come down on her shoulder gently, and she spun around to find George standing behind her.

'I'm about to head off for the night, Hermione,' he said, smiling at her fondly. 'Thanks for being the only one here tonight that hasn't tried to nag me into being around more often.'

She chuckled softly at that. 'You're welcome,' she replied. 'Go on with you. I know how busy you are.'

He nodded and gave her a one-armed hug before waving at his brother and father by the fire and making his way to the front door. He took his robes and slung them on before Apparating away with a soft 'pop'. Hermione frowned as she stared at the spot he had occupied only moments ago. She knew that losing his twin had been extremely hard on George. She imagined it felt similar to her own loss. But these days George was always so subdued. His smiles never lit up the room like they used to; there was no laughter or taunting – no pranks.

She wondered if George would ever come back to their world and be himself again – smile and laugh like he used to. She shook her head. Thinking about it never really got her anywhere. She walked over to where Ron and Harry were playing chess and pulled up a seat to watch them. She hated wizard's chess. It was droll until the part where the pieces would attack one another, and then it turned barbaric.

'What was all that about?' Ron asked suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts.

She looked up at his face to see he was wearing a scowl. 'What do you mean?' she answered, confused.

'You and George, over at the door there,' he grunted in response. 'The two of you are seeming awfully chummy these days.'

Hermione shook her head and sighed in exasperation. Ron's jealously knew no bounds and even, regularly, extended to members of his family with whom Hermione got along with. She knew it had been a wise decision on her part to break up with Ron about a year after the war. They had been fighting constantly to begin with, and soon, even their sex life was beginning to turn to the mundane. Their relationship had felt like a chore to her, and everyone in his family had seen the imminent collapse before Ron even realised it was coming himself. He was still bitter about it and would constantly try and beg her to reconsider, even two years after their relationship had ended.

'Ronald, let me be clear once more,' she began, annoyance seeping into her tone. 'I am not having a secret affair with anyone in your family, nor anyone else. But even if I was, it would be none of your damn business.'

Ron's face turned red as he began to sputter incoherently. 'Well that's just beside the point, isn't it,' he argued.

'Ron, you are going to have to move on, sooner rather than later preferably,' she said firmly, a frown creasing her brow. 'Until you learn to accept that you and I will never be more than friends, I think we're going to have to stop seeing each other. Which will be a huge shame, as I will miss coming here to see the rest of your family every Sunday.'

'But Hermione,' he said, his tone going from angry to whiny.

'No buts, Ron,' she snapped. 'I'm tired of you acting as though you have a right to be jealous of me spending time with others. We are not a couple – haven't been for two years. There are loads of witches out there who would kill to date you. You're a keeper for a Quidditch team. Find someone who is actually interested in professional Quidditch, and stop harassing me.'

Ron had the decency to look chastened then. As she calmed down from her angry rant, she noticed that Harry looked decided uncomfortable sitting across from Ron, and that Arthur and Charlie had fled the room. She was rather grateful they had. It had come as a pleasant surprise to her that none of the Weasleys had minded when she had broken up with Ron – not even Molly, who had been looking forward to her possibly becoming an official member of the family. Ron, however, was obviously not of the same opinion.

'I'm sorry, Hermione,' Ron said finally, drawing her attention back to the conversation. 'It's just; you know I always had hoped we'd be together and get married one day. It's hard to get used to the fact that we won't.'

She reached over and patted his shoulder, feeling a little sorry for him. Ron was rather like a child sometimes, or a dog with a bone. He just had a hard time letting go once he had his mind set one something.

'It's okay that you feel that way, but honestly, Ronald, you need to go and meet someone else,' she said with a heavy sigh. 'I won't make you happy, and I know you won't be able to make me happy either.'

Harry chose that moment to pipe up. 'Hermione's right, Ron,' he said to the redhead across from him. 'You two aren't well-suited.'

'Yeah, I know,' Ron mumbled.

Hermione offered the two of them a small smile before she got up from her seat. It was time for her to leave – she had classes to go to in the morning, and she didn't want to be late. They both stood to see hug her, and she left with the wave, stopping by the kitchen briefly to bid farewell to Molly, Ginny, Arthur and Charlie before collecting her robes from the front door and Apparating. She reappeared in her London flat and hung her robes up by the door, heading straight to her study to organise her satchel and make sure all of her books were in it.

She was studying Arithmancy at the Wizarding University in Cambridge, and still had just under a year left until she would receive her Master's certificate. Her major project took up a great deal of her time, and because of it, she often found she had to place an undetectable extension charm on her bag so that she'd have enough room in it to carry her work around with her in case she had a thought during the day and would need to write it down in her notes.

After she was certain all was in order, she went to the bathroom, stripped and showered before drying and dressing herself for bed. Slipping under the covers, she placed her wand on the beside table and set herself an alarm with her Muggle alarm clock and laid back, closing her eyes.

She was asleep moments later, all thoughts of the events of the evening slowly drifting from her mind.

* * *

To be continued.


	2. Part Two

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

* * *

The sun peaking through the small gap in the curtains filtered across the room, sending a sliver of light to fall on the face of the occupant of the bed.

Hermione yawned and stretched, unable to continue sleeping any longer. Once the sun was up and bright in the sky, all hope of continued sleep was often lost. She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hauling herself into a standing position before stumbling to the bathroom. She performed her morning ablutions and changed into a pair of black linen slacks and a jewel-green blouse before going to the kitchen to have some breakfast and read her post.

She settled down at the table moments later with some tea and toast with condiments. When the owl arrived with her post moments later, she fed it an owl treat and sent it on its way before spreading out her copy of the _Daily Prophet_ before her. It was a rag really, but she continued to get it delivered so that she could browse the classifieds and do the crossword puzzle while she ate her breakfast in the morning.

She summoned a quill from the other room and started flipping through the paper until she reached the page she was looking for.

Much to her surprise, at top of the Classifieds page, there was an ad for a part-time assistant role at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Hermione had no idea that George had been looking for someone to work for him. Then again, she hadn't really been thinking about George all that much in her spare time until recently. It made sense, really, with all of the extra work that he must have been doing without Fred there to help him. He must have been exhausted, or he wouldn't have bothered hiring anyone to help him.

Hermione paused to consider this for a moment. Her workload was not so much that she wouldn't be able to take on a little more. She didn't really need the money, but she did feel for George a great deal, especially as they were something of a kindred spirit in their losses. He was one of the few bright spots in the wizarding world that seemed to be slowly fading, and while Hermione knew that she was no inventor of pranks or practical jokes, she would be perfectly apt at running a store and potentially doing his paperwork for him.

She nodded to herself decidedly and quickly finished eating her toast and drinking her tea, banishing the plate and mug to the sink.

She went to her study and grabbed her satchel before going to the front door, where her robes were hanging. After putting them on and swinging her bag over her shoulder, Hermione made sure that her wards and locks were in place before she Apparated from the flat with nary a sound. She reappeared in Diagon Alley, just outside Flourish and Blotts, which she bypassed without a second look for the first time since she had discovered its existence, heading straight towards the other end of the street. She passed the newly restored Olivander's which was being run by the old wand maker's son, and headed straight over to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, walking straight inside, the bell tinkling overhead as she did.

'Hermione?' George said in surprise as she walked over to where he sat behind the counter. 'What brings you here today?'

'I've come to apply for a job,' she said with a smile.

He looked up at her in stunned silence, her words slowly making their way through his brain until he finally registered what she had just said. 'You are answering my ad?' he asked, still gobsmacked.

She chuckled softly. 'Yes, I am answering your ad,' she said, walking around the counter and taking a seat in the chair opposite him. 'I'd be perfect for the job, and you know it. I'm organised, and if I help you run the shop and do your other tedious jobs like the paperwork, it will free up some time for you to invent.'

'But… you've got… and you don't even _need_ a job,' he stammered.

'But _you_ need help, and I am more than able to fill the position,' she replied calmly. 'I have free time, and I know that you might be able to use my help every now and then with Arithmetical questions, so give me the job.'

Hermione smiled as she watched George battle internally over whether or not to hire her was a good idea. She knew, however, that the battle was won already. She was confident that she would be perfect for the job, and this way, maybe she could help bring a little cheerfulness and light back into his life. After all, she might not be funny or a prankster or anything like his twin, but she knew that working at his trade would help him to drag himself out of the self-inflicted pig sty he had buried himself in. And maybe, just maybe, he would truly smile again.

'George, are we agreed?' she prompted, startling him out of his thoughts.

He looked over at her and nodded. 'All right, you're hired,' he answered with a nervous half-smile. 'What are your terms?'

'I'll work three full days and one half day a week,' she replied. 'I don't have any classes on Friday through till Sunday, and I can work a half day on Monday or Thursday, whichever of the two you prefer.'

He nodded again, clearly more optimistic now. 'That sounds great, actually,' he said with a grin. 'Weekends are my busiest days. I'll need you to start at nine in the morning, and you'll finish when we close at five.'

'I can agree to that,' she replied. 'And I can work until one in the afternoon on either Monday or Thursday, depending on which day you'd like me.'

'We can alternate which day each week,' he replied. 'This week, if you could come in on Thursday, that would be grand.'

Hermione nodded in agreement and smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake it and seal their deal. He took her hand in his firmly and gave it a shake, still looking a little bewildered by what had just occurred. She stood from her seat behind the counter, and he stood to follow, walking her to the front door of the shop. He slung an arm around her in a one-armed hug, and she ducked out of the shop, heading straight for the Apparation point.

She arrived there a few minutes later, and as she Apparated away, she smiled to herself, satisfied that she'd done the right thing.

* * *

Hermione smiled, humming softly as she walked around the shop, tidying and dusting and restocking all of the shelves at the end of the day.

Once she had finished with the busy work, she made sure the front door of the shop was locked and warded before heading back to the counter and counting the takings for the day. She counted out the float and placed it in the safe, putting the takings into a moneybag and walking out to the back room where George had set up a small workshop in one of the far corners of the storeroom. He had spent most of the day tinkering and experimenting with new products he was developing for the shop, only coming out to help Hermione when she needed it.

'How's the work coming along?' she asked, standing beside him at the table.

He was wearing goggles and gloves, a safety precaution Hermione had insisted on when he had let slip that in the past he and Fred had never been so careful in the past. He didn't reply as he was carefully trying to drop what she assumed were exact amounts of ingredients into his potion using an eyedropper tool. When he was finished, he put the eyedropper down and lifted the goggles, sighing in relief as his potion turned a pale caramel colour and began to thicken as he stirred it.

'It's going pretty well actually,' he answered, a smile curving the corners of his mouth upwards. 'I've just completed my first project!'

Hermione's eyes widened in excitement. 'That's amazing!' she said, leaning over to look further into the cauldron. 'So what is it?'

'It's a caramel-flavoured crème to fill into chocolates that changes hair colour randomly,' he explained. 'I've had to alter it a few times over the past week to get it just right. It was lasting a little too long before, but now it should only last for twelve hours. I'll test it on myself when I get home tonight.'

'What'll you call it?' she asked.

'I don't know, but I'm sure between the two of us we'll be able to think of something,' he replied.

She nodded enthusiastically. 'Well, I've finished up outside for the day,' she said. 'I was just going to pop by Gringott's with the takings on my way home. Did you want some help cleaning up?'

'I'll be okay to clean this on my own,' he said with a small shake of his head. 'But if you wait a few minutes, I'll come with you to the bank.'

Hermione nodded and stood to the side as George bottled his potion samples and cast a cleaning charm on the cauldron, then everything else. He cast a cleansing charm on everything else as well and put away all of the ingredients he had left out on the bench. After a few minutes, he had placed everything he was taking with him in his briefcase, and together they left the shop through the back, locking the door on their way out.

The stopped off at Gringott's briefly, leaving their money with the deposits Goblin, and headed straight for the Apparation point from there. George stopped Hermione with a hand on her shoulder just before she made to leave. She turned towards him with a question on the tip of her tongue.

'I just wanted to thank you for all of your help over the past two weeks,' George said, moving closer and hugging her tightly. 'You're a real gem, Hermione. It really has freed a lot of time up for me.'

She felt a blush travel across her cheeks, warming her face. 'Oh, it's actually been really fun and interesting working at the shop,' she said quietly. 'I've actually discovered I have a bit of a knack for business after the last couple of weeks.'

He smiled, a small smile but a genuine one. 'I couldn't have asked for a better assistant,' he said honestly.

'Well, I'd better get going,' she said, clasping her hands behind her back, feeling inexplicably nervous. 'I've got a few essays to get a head start on.'

He nodded and stepped back, waving to her. She waved back, and with a pop, Apparated back to her flat.

Once there, she hung her robes on the hooks by the door and leaned against the wall for support, breathing out the breath she had been holding when she'd left Diagon Alley. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt flustered and shy, but seeing George smile the way he had made her feel slightly weak at the knees and filled her stomach with butterflies. She shook her head and went to her study, dropping off her satchel before going back to the kitchen to find something to make for dinner.

That night as she tried to get to sleep, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about George and the way his eyes had lit up that evening. She closed her eyes and went to sleep, pleased that at least part of the reason he was smiling was because of her, still unable to understand why that meant so much.

* * *

'That is correct, brilliant work, Miss Granger,' Professor Barton said, clapping in her enthusiasm.

Hermione had the decency to blush at the attention this drew. She really needed to grow out of her hand-raising habit in classes. While their instructors admired her enthusiasm and intelligence, she was finding it just as difficult to make friends with any of her fellow students at the University as she had when she first started at Hogwarts. She couldn't help it if she was driven to achieve, but after almost two years at the University, she had only managed to make a few friends, none of whom were even studying Arithmancy.

She ducked her head and willed the instructor to move on with the rest of the lesson, deliberately keeping her hand out of the air and burying her nose in her book. With the way her personality worked, it was either sticking her hand to answer questions, or shutting up completely that worked for her. Anything in between never really worked out.

The class ended shortly after, so Hermione packed all of her things into her book bag and hurried out of the room, heading straight for the Apparation point.

She Apparated to Diagon Alley and made the familiar walk up the street to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, walking through the front door and listening to the tinkling sound of the doorbell. George was standing behind the counter, putting through a transaction with a customer. He smiled up at her when he saw her walking towards him, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She cursed herself for being so silly. It was just George, after all, and he was like a brother to her, she thought firmly, although not totally convinced.

'You made it!' George exclaimed, summoning a second stool to sit behind the front counter. He patted it, indicating for her to sit down with him. 'I was worried you'd be too busy at University to come by. I'm sorry to ask you in on a Tuesday – I know it's normally your day off.'

'I told you I'd be here,' she replied a little too curtly. 'I try to keep my promises.'

'I tested and completed the formula for those caramel-crème filled chocolate's, so all that is left is for us to name it and create a sampler for people to take with them, just for a few days before I start mass-producing it,' he explained. 'I want to gauge some interest until we are sure that this will sell.'

'I'm almost certain it will,' Hermione said with a smile. 'But just for the sake of research, I agree. How much of it do you have made up at the moment?'

'I've got five hundred pieces of the stuff all wrapped up in foils at the moment,' he answered. 'I was thinking we should just put them in a bowl on the counter for people to take with them as they go.'

Hermione nodded. 'So, how about you bounce some name ideas off me?' she prompted gently.

George nodded. 'Well, I came up with a few ideas last night as I was filling the chocolates with the crème,' he began. 'I liked the idea of Chameleon Caramel Crème's.'

Hermione smiled. 'I think it's perfect,' she said as he handed over his work journal to her. 'Have you come up with any packaging designs yet?'

'Actually, I was rather hoping you might be able to come up with something for me,' he said, his ears turning red in embarrassment. 'Design was never one of my strong points. Fred would usually take care of that…'

'I'll draw up a few designs tonight and bring some in on Thursday,' she said, cutting him off. It was clearly still difficult for him to talk about his brother.

'I'm actually going to be closing the shop early on Thursday,' he said with a smile. 'So we'll both be finishing up at one o'clock.'

'Really?'

He nodded. 'It's my birthday,' he said rolling his eyes. 'My dad and Charlie have organised a boys afternoon. It's a surprise. And then mum is making a feast for dinner. I assume you were invited for that?'

'Oh, yes I was invited, but I didn't know it was your birthday!' she exclaimed in surprise. 'I've got classes until seven that night, but I will definitely drop by straight after to say hello after that.'

'I'll ask mum to hold off dinner until seven,' he offered. 'I'd hate for you to miss out. She's making some of my favourites.'

She felt the butterflies begin in her stomach, warmth spreading through her at his words. Despite not being the cheerful, happy-go-lucky guy he had been a few years ago, the way he had been acting of late was a serious improvement, and his smiles though few were something she looked forward to. So why was it that every time she was around him lately, she started feeling strange and almost awkward? She gave herself a mental shake. There would be time enough later for her to analyse her feelings.

'Thank you,' she said, her voice coming out softer than she had intended. She cleared her throat quickly. 'Sorry, yes I will be there as soon as I can then.'

'Great,' he said, taking back the journal she offered. 'Well, I suppose I will see you on Thursday?'

Hermione nodded. 'I'll be here bright and early.'

She stood up from the stool but before she could turn to flee as quickly as possible, George caught her up in a tight hug. She tried to shrug it off, but in the end, she caved to her desire to embrace him back, and they held onto one another for a couple of minutes. Suddenly, he let go of her, and she realised that it had become rather awkward. She pulled away, clearing her throat softly and swinging her bag back over her shoulder and moving to leave.

'Alright, well I'll see you Thursday,' she said quickly.

Before he had a chance to say anything else, she fled, walking out without a backwards glance as fast as her feet could carry her.

* * *

George stared at the mantle of the fireplace in his flat, watching as the hands of the clock sitting atop it moved slowly.

He'd found it extremely difficult to sleep the night before, resulting in him getting out of bed a lot earlier than he normally did. If he was totally honest with himself, it had more to do with the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about his assistant than the fact that it was his birthday. He could remember being excited about birthday's as a child – both he and Fred would spend the days leading up to their birthday trying to hunt for their presents which his mother and father always hid so well.

He missed those times – when birthdays were fun and easy. He had less and less to look forward to on birthdays these days. All they brought with them was age, and a reminder that he would not be able to share them with his twin any longer. It was all him – all by himself. He looked at the clock again to check the time and decided that he had enough time for a few minutes with his brother before work. He walked over to the mantle and grabbed the Resurrection stone, holding it firmly with one hand and willing Fred into existence.

The image of his brother stood before him once more. Like this, Fred appeared more like a ghost than a real person, but George was willing to take what he could get given the circumstances.

'Happy Birthday, Freddie,' he said solemnly.

'Happy Birthday, Georgie,' Fred replied, smiling at him. 'You should be on your way to work by now.'

'I know,' George replied, his voice soft. 'I just wanted to see you for a little while before I go. It's still hard, even after all this time.'

'I know it's hard,' his twin said, moving to stand in front of the photo of the two of them outside their shop. 'But it will get easier with time. You know, it might be easier on you if you ever had someone to share it with?'

George shook his head with a dry chuckle. 'You say the most ridiculous things sometimes,' he said, the tears that were forming in his eyes began their trek down his cheeks. 'Besides – what girl is going to want to be seen with a bloke who breaks down in tears?'

Fred chuckled. 'You've only got yourself to blame, mate,' he teased. 'But say you stopped crying like you have been, you might be able to find a girl who'll put up with you and that hole were your ear used to be.'

'Maybe,' George agreed with a watery laugh.

'Alright, be off with you,' Fred said, with a wave of his hand. 'I'll still be with you, no matter where you are.'

George nodded, turning away from his brother, unwilling to watch him fade from sight. When he turned back, he was alone again. He placed the stone back up on the mantle, and without further ado, he grabbed his robes and threw them on before Apparating to Diagon Alley. He walked briskly down the street, hyper-aware that he was running a little behind schedule. When he arrived at the shop, he was surprised to find that the lights were on inside, and it had already been opened up for the day. He walked inside through the front door and found Hermione up a ladder with her back to him, dusting the shelves wearing a pretty blue dress with stockings and heels.

'Good morning,' he said, walking over to the counter and placing his briefcase on the bench.

Her head snapped around, and she gasped in surprise, almost falling off the ladder in her eagerness to face him. George ran forward immediately, catching her around the middle, halting her fall. With his hands still around her waist, he helped her off the ladder, not letting go until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. When she looked up at him she had a pretty pink tinge to her cheeks, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth.

'Happy Birthday,' she said a little breathlessly. 'I'm sorry that the first thing you did today was prevent me from breaking my neck from a fall. I'll be more careful in the future.'

'It was my fault for startling you,' he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. 'You look very pretty today. What's the occasion?'

'I have a speech to give in one of my classes today on a project, actually,' she said with a blush. 'And I thought, as I have that and the dinner tonight at The Burrow to attend, I might as well just dress for the day so I won't need to get changed multiple times.'

'You're always so organised,' he said with a smile, placing a hand on her back and gently leading her over to the counter. He urged her to sit on one of the stools. 'But for the sake of my sanity, please don't go falling off any more of the ladders here today, all right?'

'I'll do my best,' she replied with a small smile.

George watched as she summoned her satchel over to her then and began riffling around through it. Her eyes widened in happiness when she obviously found what she was looking for, brightening her entire face. She was enchanting… He gave himself a mental shake. This was Hermione Granger he was thinking about. She used to date his brother – she was practically a part of the family. _But she's not family_ , a part of his brain reminded him. It didn't matter, he thought. She would never be interested in him, especially while she was under his employ.

His thoughts were disturbed a moment later when he felt something being pressed into his hands. He looked down to see it was a gift-wrapped present with a large, gold ribbon attached to it. He looked up at her, noting the excitement on her face. She was so pretty; she almost ripped the breath right from his chest. He shook his head and focussed on the present instead. There would be time enough later for him to think about everything else.

'Open it,' she urged gently.

He tugged the bow of the ribbon gently, discarding it on the bench before setting himself to the task of tediously pealing all of the tape away. He pulled off the wrapping paper to find there was a carved ebony box with an intricate pattern on the lid. It was lacquered and shone in the dim lighting of the shop. He paused briefly before opening it, looking up to see her eyes were wide with nervousness. He quickly flicked open the bronze latch and opened the box to find a pocket watch resting within on a bed of velvet.

The watch was silver with an intricate Celtic weave design on the top. On the back his name was engraved in a familiar type that he recognised as Hermione's. George carefully popped the cover open, and was stunned when he found not only an beautiful antique face, but on the back of the watch cover, there was a miniature photograph of Fred waving up at him, grinning from ear to ear. He felt himself starting to get choked up, and was unable to prevent a tear from escaping.

Hermione reached up and brushed the tear away, and he could see when he looked into her eyes that they were blurred with tears also.

'Thank you,' he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded with a watery smile. He stared at the watch for a moment more, his chest feeling heavy and warm for the first time in a long time. He was amazed by the woman who was standing beside him. She was the smartest, kindest, and most beautiful woman he had clapped eyes on, and he had no idea why it had taken him so long to figure it out. She had given him so much of her time and kindness over the past month, without expecting anything from him in return.

He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug, a wide smile curving his mouth.

* * *

To be continued.


	3. Part Three

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

* * *

The shop was already open and the place stocked and immaculate as usual whenever Hermione opened up, as George entered that morning.

George was running a little behind schedule again, and he was eternally grateful that it was on a day that Hermione was scheduled to be at work. He rushed through the front door, his red hair in slight disarray, and he knew his robes were still wrinkled as well. He reflected that it was too bad Hermione was back at College studying once more. For a couple of months over the summer, she had been working at the shop nearly every day with him. Now that her studies had resumed, there were several days of the week when he was the first to arrive and would have to attend to the mundane task of tidying and restocking.

George found Hermione perched on a stool behind the counter with a thick tome open on the desk before her. She had her nose half buried in the book, and he knew that she hadn't heard him enter.

Quiet as he could, he snuck around to the other side of the counter, standing beside her and leaning over her shoulder to see what she was reading about. He was disappointed to see that it was in a language he couldn't read, and appeared to be a text on Arithmancy and Charms. He had never really cared much for Arithmancy in school, and after his third year, discontinued it. But he knew for a fact that Hermione was very good at it, so it often meant that he would leave all of the numbers and paperwork to her.

'That looks dead boring,' he said, pleased at her jump on hearing his voice so close to her.

Her head snapped around so that she was looking at him, and she had a small frown creasing her brow. 'It's actually rather interesting,' she said primly. 'It's an advanced text on the method of using Arithmancy to improve and create Charms and Potions. I've been doing a lot of research on that particular subject for my final project.'

'Have you done much of it yet?' he asked.

'Well, I do have another five months before it needs to be submitted, so not a great deal, no,' she answered. 'But lately I've been feeling that I really need to start cracking on with it if I'm going to have any chance at graduating my Master's degree at the top of my class.'

'How could you possibly not have the highest grades?' he asked, dumbfounded. He could not recall a time when Hermione hadn't been top of the class.

Her chuckle was dry, but he still liked the way it sounded. 'Believe it or not, I am not the only smart witch or wizard out there,' she said with a grin. 'There actually are a few other brains in my class who are also competing for the top grade. I have just as much chance as any of them do.'

'Well, that has got to be a strong motivator,' he said. 'It's great to have competition. It makes you want it that much more.'

She nodded in agreement. 'Oh, by the way, I know this has nothing to do with my studies, but I was wondering if you would be making any more of those Chameleon Crème's any time soon?' she asked. 'We're running low on stock again. Ever since we started selling them they've been popular.'

'I can start on a new batch of those today, actually,' he answered, feeling more than a little bit pleased that his development had become so popular over the past few months.

'Excellent,' she exclaimed. 'I'm so glad you've got a few new products on your shelves, and I'll bet you have a lot more ideas locked away in that mind of yours.'

He nodded. It was true – he did have other ideas. The ideas seemed to be coming to him all of the time those days, so often that he'd resorted to carrying around a notebook with him at all times in case he was struck with inspiration. Of course, he knew that a lot of his inspiration came from having Hermione around. She had been an endless source of support for him since she had begun working at the shop several months prior. And all of the time she gave him to work on his new line of products by working the front of the shop was a great help too.

He looked at her again, noting that the pale column of her neck seemed slightly longer when her brown curls were pulled back and all piled atop her head in a messy bundle. It was very becoming as she had such a pretty neck and a strawberry-shaped face, which complimented it. He was surprised by all of the small things he was beginning to notice about her over time. By this point, he had come to the decision that he would not stop himself from admiring her from afar. It was, after all, harmless to look and like what you see.

'You know, Christmas is only a few weeks away,' he said, hauling a stool over to sit beside her.

'Yes, and?' she asked, not looking up from her book.

'I was hoping to have another new product out before Christmas,' he said.

She looked up from her book then. That had obviously gotten her attention. She marked her page with a piece of paper she called a 'sticky note' and turned to pay attention to him.

'What exactly is it that you've been working on?' she asked.

'Christmas fireworks,' he said with a grin. 'I've used the same basic recipe from our other ones and altered all of the colours and the message with some charm work. And I'll have another couple of Christmas themed things I think.'

'That sounds great,' she said with a smile. 'I'll help you with any packaging designs you'll need, so just give me a list when you're ready.'

'I will,' he agreed, just as a few customers entered the shop. 'Well, I'd better head out back and get to work, or I might not meet my deadline for the Christmas products.'

She nodded and put away her textbook, and he stood up, putting away the extra stool and picking up his briefcase. With a nod, he walked out to the storeroom to work on his projects. He spent a while writing down different chemical enhancements he would need to make for the fireworks, recalling that the colour changes would need to come from the potion they'd used to create the magical gunpowder. The charm work would come into it later.

By midday, George was getting a headache and was hungry. He wandered out of the back room out to the main part of the shop and found that it was crawling with people. He stopped by the counter briefly, intent on helping her out before going to find the two of them something for lunch.

'Thanks,' she said with a smile when he came to stand beside her and put transactions through.

Again, he felt his breath catch for a moment at the way her smile made her caramel eyes sparkle brightly. He nodded wordlessly, shrugging off the errant feeling before continuing with serving the next customer. When the rush died down, he decided to go to the Leaky Cauldron to pick up something for them to eat, his stomach grumbling loudly in protest.

'Hungry, hmm?' Hermione teased as he walked around the counter and headed towards the front door.

He nodded. 'Did you want anything in particular for lunch?' he asked.

She shook her head. 'I'm not a bit fussy, so whatever you're having will be fine,' she replied.

George walked out of the shop without looking back. As he walked up the street, his mind turned to his beautiful, clever assistant. He found that it was more difficult these days to simply view her as a member of the family as he had before. She was somehow managing to creep beneath his skin in a way that many other beautiful girls had failed to do since the war. He used to be known as a little bit of a player, along with his brother, before the Dark Lord had taken over the Ministry. Nowadays he was closer to a hermit than anything.

Hermione was becoming a bit like a drug to him. When she wasn't around, he wanted to see her. The days she didn't come in to run the shop for him dragged on. He knew it was wrong, but the longer he thought about it, the more he was certain that he had developed feelings for Hermione. Before the war, he had always seen her as something like a younger sister, but now he wondered how he could have ever thought that.

On arrival at the Leaky Cauldron, he promptly ordered fish and chips to takeaway for both of them.

A few minutes later, he was handed two paper bags filled with his order. He left Tom a generous tip on the bar and left the noisy pub, eager to return to the shop, and Hermione. He arrived back in time to hold the door open for one a customer as she was leaving. The woman was a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes, and as she walked past him, he could see the blush spreading across her cheeks and the way she fluttered her eyelashes at him coquettishly. Without even a second glance at her, he passed by into the shop, heading straight to Hermione.

'Thanks,' she said, taking the bag her offered her and opening it up. 'Looks great! I'm starving actually.'

He smiled and moved his stool beside her, both of them eating together for the short while that the shop was quiet over the lunch period of the day. Even though they didn't speak, he felt comfortable sitting beside the woman beside him. She was highly intelligent, which he knew would intimidate some people, but for him, it was an attractive feature – he would hate to be with a woman who had no ambition whatsoever, especially since he had found his again. The blonde he had walked by on his way in was just another one of those girls who were attracted to him because of his standing in society or his money.

He gazed briefly at the woman beside him as she enthusiastically ate her lunch. She caught his eye as she glance back at him, blushing but smiling. He couldn't help himself from smiling back.

* * *

Hermione yawned as she hung her robes up on one of the hooks by the front door in The Burrow.

She was there for Sunday dinner as usual, and had only just arrived at six after falling asleep on her course work. She had been at Weasley Wizard Wheezes that day until three when George said she could take the rest of the afternoon off, and she had promptly gone home without complaint to continue working on her final project. She hadn't expected to be quite as tired as she was. When she had woken up, she had rushed to the bathroom to wash her face and freshen up quickly before Apparating straight to The Burrow.

She wandered through the sitting room and saw that Bill and Percy were sitting there with their respective pregnant spouses, chatting in front of the fire. The house was already decorated for Christmas, which was only twelve days away. University was going to let out for two weeks on Friday, and before then she had two end of term exams to sit. She was a little nervous about them – but she quickly stopped to reassure herself that she was as prepared as she could be. She was unable to see George anywhere in the sitting room, so she moved on to the kitchen, hoping to see him somewhere.

She found Molly busy bustling around as she whipped up the usual feast, with both Ginny and Harry in tow to help her this time. Hermione offered to help, but Molly simply smiled and gave her the plates and cutlery to set the table for them. As she was walking towards the dining room, George and Arthur entered the house, evidence suggesting they had been tinkering outside in the shed if the grease on their hands was any indicator.

Hermione wandlessly cast a cleansing charm on their hands and shirts for them, removing the grease and stains.

'Been busy mucking about with the car?' she asked, looking at them disapprovingly as they both flushed and grinned innocently.

'Guilty as charged,' Arthur said, holding his hands up in surrender. 'Is dinner nearly ready then?'

Hermione nodded. 'I think they'll be finished up in there in about fifteen minutes,' she replied. 'I'm sure they're fine though - there are three of them in there already. Which reminds me, where is Ron?'

'Ron will be coming by a little late today,' Arthur replied. 'He had a match early this afternoon against the Wimbourne Wasps. He Owled to let me know he'd be late because the boys were going to the pub after to celebrate their win.'

'Why isn't Harry there?' Hermione asked, confused. Normally Harry never missed a game when Ron played.

'They had an argument,' Arthur said, shaking his head. 'Those two will get over it. I wouldn't bring it up tonight though.'

'Okay,' Hermione said with a smile, continuing on her way towards the dining room.

She was surprised, almost jumping, when she felt a pair of arms come around her, plucking the stack of dishes from her hands. She spun around to find George smiling cheekily, holding the stack of dishes with the cutlery balancing precariously on the top of them. Before they could fall, Hermione grabbed the cutlery and led the way to the dining room, hyper aware of the fact that George was following her closely. She felt nervous, the butterflies she always felt around him fluttering in her stomach and crawling upwards.

There was no doubting that she was attracted to him and had feelings for him. Who would have thought that going to work for him would result in her having feelings for him? She hadn't bet on it – all she had wanted to do was give him a reason to smile again. By taking a load off his shoulders, she had seen the improvement in his moods and the way he smiled more. She looked forward to each and every smile that he gifted her with. She really hoped that he was happier, even if there was no chance that he'd ever return her feelings.

'How was the rest of the afternoon in the shop?' she asked as they started to set the table together.

'It was pretty quiet actually,' he replied, walking around the table with all of the plates. 'I Apparated straight over here after closing up and worked on dad's latest Muggle car with him. He's been dying to tinker with a car every since Ron and Harry crashed the last one into the Whomping Willow.'

'I hope the two of you aren't planning to fly that thing anywhere when you finish it,' she lectured, earning a chuckle from George. 'The last car was unsafe, and I doubt this one will be any better.'

The redhead across from her smirked. 'Tell you what, if we do, I wont tell you so you don't have to worry about us,' he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. A moment later, Harry and Ginny entered the room, laden with dishes and levitating some more along behind them. Dinner commenced soon after with no Ron in sight. The room was full of chatter as everyone in the boisterous Weasley fold talked and ate their fill. After everyone was finished eating, Hermione and George got up to clear the dishes and leftovers from the table with Molly. She served homemade miniature apple pies for dinner with vanilla bean ice cream, which everyone dug into with enthusiasm.

While Hermione helped Molly with the clean-up, everyone else moved into the sitting room and talked. While she was there, Ron walked in through the back door still wearing his Quidditch uniform and looking decidedly dirty and sweaty. She gave him a short hug before his mother shooed him from the kitchen, telling him to go upstairs and take a shower before he offended anyone else with his smell. As Molly was chasing him away, she didn't notice George as he slipped into the room until he stood beside her at the sink as she washed the dishes.

'I'll wash if you want to dry them,' he offered, nudging her out of the way.

'All right, bossy,' she said with a chuckle, picking up a tea towel and drying the dishes she had already washed and stacked.

'I like to call it being helpful,' he said with a grin, splashing a little water in her direction playfully.

Hermione gasped as the water splashed onto her blouse. She mock-frowned at him, dipping her hand into the water and splashing him back. He laughed, a full, beautiful sound that was music to her ears. He was actually laughing. She smiled up at him, even as he continued to laugh and splash the water at her in the miniature war they had begun. By the end of it, there was more water on both of them than there was left in the sink. Hermione giggled, reaching up to wipe away some that had ended up on her cheek. Before she could, however, George reached over and gently swiped at it himself.

She felt her breath catch at his touch and watched as his hand dropped back to his side. Taking a chance, she glanced up to look at his face and found that his eyes were wide and his breathing had also become shallow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. A cough from the doorway behind them startled them, and Hermione jumped involuntarily, her head whipping around to see who had interrupted them and was horrified to see that it was Ron.

'Don't let me interrupt,' he said sulkily, storming off before either of them could say anything.

Hermione gaped, unable to comprehend what had just transpired. She looked up at George, who looked equally shocked. She snapped her mouth closed and put down the tea towel, shooting George an apologetic look before walking in the direction Ron had stormed off in. She didn't need to worry about not finding him, however. All she had to do was follow the sound of Ron arguing with someone in the front yard. She opened the door and walked outside to see what all the fuss was about.

'…And if you don't stop acting like a jealous git all of the time, you're going to lose her as a friend, too,' Harry said angrily as Ron paced back and forth in the snow.

'I'm right here, you know,' Hermione piped up, causing both boys to look up at her. 'I think if you're going to talk about me, I might as well be here to defend myself.'

'Sorry, Hermione,' Harry said, having the grace to look sheepish.

'It's all right, Harry,' she said, moving her eyes to look at Ron, planting her hands on her hips as she wound herself up to rant. 'Now, would you like to explain yourself, Ronald?'

'Why don't you explain why you're practically throwing yourself at my brother?' he demanded, his ears turning red in his anger.

'Excuse me?' she said shrilly. 'I thought we'd been over this before, Ron. I am not dating your brother. But even if I were, it would be none of your bloody business. I am not accountable to you at all – ever.'

'Well that's just beside the point,' he said, his voice turning whiny once more. 'I just can't stand to see you getting along with George so well. I've been watching the two of you for months now – every Sunday. You hog each other's time, and we barely talk to each other any more. I've seen the way you've been looking at him. I know it because you used to look at me that way, back when we were still together.'

Hermione was stunned. She'd had no idea that Ron had been paying such close attention to her without her even realising it. When had he ever been perceptive? He'd never shown even the slightest amount of interest in her while they had been dating, and as soon as they'd split up, he practically stalked her. She wasn't sure what she was going to do about it short of refusing to see him or putting an end to her visits to The Burrow on Sundays.

'I'm sorry Ron, but after having to tell you time and time again that I don't appreciate you nosing into my personal life, I've run out of patience for you completely,' she said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. 'I can't speak to you while you're acting like this – you're so irrational and jealous.'

'But Hermione,' he whined, walking over to her and grabbing for her hand.

She wrenched her hand out of his grasp and stepped back up onto the porch. 'Don't,' she snapped, glaring at him. 'Harry was right, you know. I don't think we can be friends until you grow up and out of this habit of interfering in my life.'

She watched as the petulant look on Ron's face morphed into one of heartbreak. She felt for him, she really did, but she was tired of sacrificing her own happiness to play agony aunt for her ex-boyfriend. She deserved to be happy, even if it meant that Ron's feeling would be hurt due to his inability to move on. Feeling hurt and angry, she turned on her heel and fled back inside the house, going straight for the hooks by the door and grabbing her robes.

She pulled them on roughly, pausing only to cast a drying charm on her still-damp clothing before buttoning the robes at the front. As she turned to leave, she saw George out of the corner of her eye, walking towards her from the kitchen looking slightly awkward and apologetic. She really hoped he didn't blame himself for what had happened with Ron – the last thing she needed were two miserable Weasley boys to deal with in one night.

'I'm sorry Ron is such a prat,' George said with a frown.

'It's all right,' she replied, grimacing at how curt she sounded. 'It isn't your fault at all, just so you know. This emotional explosion has been a long time coming. Ron is too immature to deal with things sensibly, I'm afraid.'

'Are you leaving?' he asked, gesturing at her as she finished fastening her robes.

She nodded. 'I don't want to hang around here while Ron is still around. He needs some time to cool off,' she answered quietly. 'I need him to cool off before Christmas day or I might have to spend Christmas alone this year.'

'Let me escort you home,' George offered. 'I'd hate for you to splinch yourself while you're upset like this.'

Hermione chuckled dryly. 'You'd only hate that because it would mean you were short a pair of hands at the shop this week,' she said. 'But I suppose you could – I'm feeling a little tired myself anyway.'

She waited for George to grab his robes and pull them on, and pick up his briefcase before they walked back out the front door. Harry was sitting on the stairs leading up to the porch on his own. Hermione glanced around briefly to see if Ron was anywhere in sight.

'Where'd Ron go?' George asked, saving Hermione from having to ask.

'I think he Apparated upstairs so he didn't have to walk past you,' Harry replied, standing and walking over to hug Hermione. 'I'm sorry about him. I suppose you heard we were on the outs before that scene. I've been telling him for weeks now to grow up, and he finally got sick of hearing me say that he needed to move on.'

'Thanks, Harry,' she said, returning his embrace. 'But you should know that you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.'

Harry nodded and released her before giving George a one-armed hug as well as shaking his hand. Waving at him, she grasped George's hand then and the two of them disappeared from the porch, reappearing at the door outside Hermione's flat. She released his hand reluctantly, pulling her wand out and tapping it against the doorknob, removing her wards and unlocking the door.

She turned to face George in her doorway then, staring up at his shyly. There passed a moment of awkward silence, neither of them speaking. George opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head and moved closer to her, leaning down and brushing the sweetest, gentlest kiss on her cheek. When he pulled back she could see that his face was suffused pink. She felt a little flushed herself from the friendly gesture.

'Goodnight, Hermione,' he said finally, clearing his throat softly. 'Good luck with your exams this week, and I'll see you on Thursday morning.'

Hermione nodded and smiled. 'Thanks,' she replied. 'And thank you for escorting me home. I'll see you bright and early on Thursday morning.'

With a nod, he Disapparated, leaving Hermione alone once more. She closed the front door behind her as she entered and leaned her back against it. One of her hands moved involuntarily to her face, her fingertips brushing her cheek where George had kissed her. With a smile and a flush of pleasure, she went about the house performing her nightly ablutions.

That night, she went to sleep with a small smile on her face, despite everything that had occurred at dinner that night.

* * *

To be continued.


	4. Part Four

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

* * *

With the shop light's switched off and everything locked up and tidy, Hermione walked out to the storeroom, intent on saying goodbye to George before she left for the day.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and the shop would be closed until the second of January, so she had made certain everything was extra tidy before closing up. She opened the door to the storeroom and walked to the back, where George was most likely tinkering with his latest experiment. She was surprised to find that he had already tidied and was putting his journal into his briefcase. He turned to look at her when he heard her walking over to him.

'Ready for Christmas?' he asked with a grin. 'I heard Ron has decided to spend Christmas with the family of one of the Seekers on his team this year, so it's safe for you to come to The Burrow.'

'Your mother must be upset about that,' she said, leading the way out of the storeroom.

George nodded, switching off the light as they left through the back door. 'She sent him a howler while he was at practice earlier this week,' he replied. 'He's taken your argument a lot harder than any of us expected. I'm sorry.'

Hermione waved him off. 'It's alright,' she replied. 'Ron will come around in his own time. I am tired of having to treat him like he's made of spun glass.'

As the two of them walked alongside one another, they fell into silence. Hermione glanced over at him and saw that he had a frown marring his brow. She wondered what was wrong with him. Ever since her fight with Ron, George had gone back to being subdued around her, barely smiling any more and not laughing. She had gotten so used to his smiles and the slow return of his former cheerfulness that his regression was unnerving.

She reached her free hand up to her cheek without even realising it, brushing the spot where he had kissed it a little over a week before. She smiled a little, but dropped her hand immediately, not wanting to draw attention to herself. They reached the bank shortly after and deposited the money before heading straight to the Apparation point. She stood there, turning around to face George momentarily before Apparating.

'I'll see you on Christmas day then?' George asked, looking at the ground.

She felt her heart clench at the look on his face and, without thinking, reached out to him and touched his cheek with her hand, tilting his face up to look at her. He looked at her then, and she smiled at him. Grabbing his arm, she tugged him towards her and Apparated them both, reappearing in front of his flat. He looked at her in surprise then, and she merely smiled and shrugged, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

His eyes widened in surprise before a smile curved his mouth. 'Want to stay for dinner?' he asked, gesturing at the door.

'Okay,' she said, surprised at her own daring and breathless from the smile he gifted her with.

George unlocked the door with a wave of his wand and led the way in, switching on the lights and dropping his briefcase on the coffee table in front of the armchairs by the fireplace. She followed him in, shrugging her robes off. He took her robes from her and hung it up with his own on the hooks by the door, gesturing for her to have a seat. She did, watching as he nervously bustled into the kitchen, retuning with two tall glasses of sparkling pumpkin juice.

'Thank you,' she said as he sat down on the lounge beside her.

'I don't really have anything planned for dinner,' he said, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly. 'There is a great Vietnamese takeaway place just around the corner from here. I can call and order something?'

Hermione grinned. 'You actually have a phone?' she asked, not sure why she was so amazed. He was the son of Arthur Weasley, after all.

George nodded enthusiastically. 'There are some things I really like about living in Muggle London,' he replied. 'So, takeaway?'

She nodded. 'I'm not a bit fussy,' she said with a chuckle.

She watched as George got up and disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, listening to him as he made the phone call to the Vietnamese takeaway shop. He returned afterwards and sat down beside her.

'It'll be about twenty minutes,' he told her. 'I'll Apparate down there later and pick it up for us. I hope you don't mind, but I ordered all of my favourites.'

She nodded, excited. She always said she wasn't fussy, but she really did enjoy eating Asian cuisine. An awkward silence fell over the room. Hermione fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt, staring down at her hands. She knew that she had been bold in Apparating them both to his flat earlier, but now she was struck with a sudden shyness. She didn't know what she had been thinking, kissing him the way that she had and practically inviting herself over to his flat.

She glanced up from her hands for a moment to look at George and noticed that he was staring into the empty fireplace. She felt a chill run through her and shivered. Pulling her wand from her sleeve, she pointed it at the logs in the fireplace and whispered a quiet ' _Incendio_ ', sparking a flame in the grate. He looked over at her in surprise, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'I didn't realise you were cold.'

She waved him off. 'It's fine,' she replied, standing and walking over to stand in front of the fire.

She looked around the room, surprised to find that there was a bookshelf in his sitting room along with an oriental rug on the floor, a lounge chair, two armchairs, and a coffee table. She had never been in his flat before, despite having known the address for quite a while. The photos sitting on the mantle over the fireplace drew her attention, a photo of Fred and George in particular, drawing her eye. She walked over to examine it closely, smiling when she saw how happy the two of them were, waving up at her and grinning.

Hermione was about to sit back down when something dark and shiny sitting beside the photo frame caught her eye. She reached up and grasped it, lifting it up to look at it closely. She gasped when she recognised what it was, putting it back on the mantle and spinning around to face George. She had a frown on her face, and she could see that he was embarrassed that she had found the stone. Her expression softened, and she moved to sit down beside him.

'George, what are you doing with the Resurrection Stone?' she asked, reaching over to place a hand on his knee. 'How on earth did you get it?'

'Harry gave it to me after the final battle,' he mumbled. 'I said I would get rid of it for him – he doesn't know that I still have it, so please don't be mad at him.'

'I'm not mad,' she said quietly. 'I'm just a little concerned for you. You know it's not healthy to use the stone. You know the story of the three brothers.'

He nodded solemnly. 'I know the story,' he whispered. 'I keep meaning to get rid of it, really. I just – it's the only way I can still talk to him.'

Hermione moved closer, her heart trying to crawl up her throat. She ignored it – George was hurting still in a very bad way, and she knew that she needed to comfort him rather than berate him. She put her arms around him in a tight hug, stroking his hair out of his face. She felt his body tremble slightly as sobs began to wrack his body. She felt tears begin to blur her own eyes. She was tired and emotional, but she had to hold it back. The last thing he needed was for her to beak down while he was in that state.

The sobs slowed after a little while before completely stopping, his sniffles and their breathing the only sounds in the room. He looked up after a while, his face flushed in embarrassment at his emotional display. She knew that he would be ashamed for crying in front of her, but she was not about to let him curl in on himself and close everyone else out.

'I'm sorry,' he said, looking down at his hands that were clenched in his lap. 'I don't normally fall to pieces like that. Fred keeps telling me that I spend too much time moping around the house.'

Hermione reached over and put her a hand on his clenched ones. 'Don't worry about it,' she said with a smile. 'There is nothing wrong with mourning those we love. I miss Fred too. Everyone in your family does, and that is perfectly fine.'

'You miss him too?' he said, looking up in surprise.

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath to fortify herself. She couldn't believe it, but telling him how she truly felt might help him to understand. 'I miss him because he was a great person and a funny, loving guy,' she said softly. 'But mostly, I miss him because you have not been yourself ever since he was taken from us. You used to smile and laugh – I miss seeing your face light up in excitement. When you started to experiment and work on your products a few months ago, I saw you started to smile again, but over the last week or so, I've felt like you were slipping backwards.'

'I felt like things were improving too,' he agreed. 'But lately I've been feeling a little bit like moving on from mourning is like I'm forgetting him.'

'Being happy yourself doesn't mean that you've forgotten him,' Hermione said seriously. 'I sincerely doubt that Fred would want you to be miserable for the rest of your life. He'd want you to be happy.'

'I know that, logically,' he said, relaxing his hands and turning one of them over to hold her slender hand with his gently. 'Fred is right though. I'll never build any lasting relationships if I am blubbering all of the time.'

'I don't mind the blubbering,' she said with a teasing smile. 'Mind you, I wish you were happy – I like to see you smile.'

'I like it when you smile too,' he murmured quietly, his cheeks flushing as he looked up at her.

Hermione felt her stomach flip as they inched closer together inexplicably, his warm breath washing across her lips. She wanted the kiss that she knew was coming, but she knew that it would be wrong to take advantage of him while he was emotional. She put a hand on his chest before their lips met, retreating a short distance. His look of confusion hurt her, but she knew it was for the best. He cleared his throat in embarrassment and sat up straight, staring at the logs in the fire as they burned.

'I'm sorry,' he said softly. 'I thought you wanted… I'm sorry.'

'I do want you to kiss me,' she whispered softly, turning to face him. 'I want you to kiss you so badly that it hurts.'

He turned to look at her, his brow furrowed further in confusion. 'Then why did you stop me?' he asked.

'Because you're vulnerable,' she said in frustration. 'I can't take advantage of you when you're in this state. You're only reaching out to me because I'm here. I don't want you to kiss me just because I'm the only one around.'

'It's not just because you're the only one here,' he said, moving towards her again. 'I want you, Hermione. I've wanted you for months now.'

'You have?' she whispered, her breath hitching in her throat.

'Yes,' he murmured, leaning in close, his eyes closing as he lips hovered above hers.

Hermione felt her own eyes flutter closed. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and their harsh breathing as they moved closer. She nearly fell off the chair when she felt his soft lips touch hers. She was startled suddenly when his hands grasped her, pulling her towards him and wrapping her in his strong arms. His mouth opened slightly, followed by his tongue brushing over her bottom lip. She opened her mouth to him, allowing him to invade hers, entreating him to glide his tongue against her own. She moaned softly as the kiss intensified, her hand drifting up to his head, running her fingers gently through his soft red hair.

She pulled back suddenly, looking at his face, which was flushed, his lips glistening from their kisses.

'What's wrong?' he asked, confused, obviously wondering why she had stopped.

'We forgot about dinner!' she exclaimed with a small giggle.

He smiled at her, leaning in and stealing another quick kiss. 'I'll go and pick it up now,' he said, standing up and walking to the kitchen.

He returned to the sitting room with Muggle pounds in his hand. Apparently while he was there he had cast a charm to straighten his rumpled clothing and hair out also. She grinned and stood, walking over to join him at the front door as he retrieved his long winter jacket – after all, he couldn't be seen wearing his wizards robes at the takeaway store, and it was snowing outside. He gave her another gentle kiss before he Apparated away, leaving her alone in his flat. She walked into the kitchen then and decided to occupy herself with the task of setting the kitchen table with plates and cutlery.

As she looked around his cupboards for the items in question, her mind raced frantically over what had transpired so far that evening. He had kissed her – and not just a friendly peck on the lips – an honest to god, tongue-tangling kiss. So far, he hadn't touched her anywhere but her back, rubbing circles on her lower back as his tongue had danced with her own, but she felt flustered. She'd wanted him to touch her in more places than just that. She wanted his hands everywhere, and his lips and tongue too.

Before she could think on her desires for too much longer, a 'pop' of Apparation sounded in the other room. George walked into the kitchen soon after with a plastic bag filled with takeaway containers. He placed the containers on the table and removed all the lids so that they could help themselves to whatever foods they wanted. He pulled out a chair for her, seating her properly before taking the seat directly beside her.

'It smells great,' she announced, serving herself a little of everything.

'It's the best takeaway in the area,' he said, helping himself to a giant serving of food also. 'I hope you enjoy it.'

They ate in comfortable silence, glancing at each other every now and then. Hermione delighted in the way that his face would flush every time she caught him staring at her through the meal. Once they were finished, they put their used dishes in the sink, and George washed up while Hermione disposed of the empty takeaway containers and put the leftovers in his refrigerator. When they were finished tidying, they both retired to the living room, and George put another log on the fire, stoking it with the iron poker he had standing up beside it.

He sat down beside her, immediately putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close to him. She willingly snuggled against him, her head leaning against his shoulder as his free hand grasped one of hers. It was warm, and she began to feel sleepy from all of the food they had consumed and how comfortably soft the lounge was. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to doze, exhausted from all of the emotional excitement of the day.

* * *

Hermione woke up suddenly and found herself horizontal on the lounge, pressed up against the long, hard form of George who was asleep behind her. His strong arms held her tightly against him so that she was not at risk of falling off the lounge. It was fortunate that the lounge was wide enough to accommodate the two of them falling asleep on it. She could feel that a blanket was draped over the two of them, and she smiled, knowing that George must have willingly fallen asleep with her there. Why else would they be covered with a blanket without her shoes on?

She looked up to the mantle and could barely make out the time on the face of the clock sitting atop it. The orange glow of the fire that still burned was not quite a strong enough source of light. She squinted and saw that it was nearly five in the morning. She had been asleep for a few hours already. Wriggling out of his grasp, she tried to extract herself from him as carefully as she could. She desperately needed to use the loo, but she didn't want to wake him in the process. Quickly, she looked for the bathroom and found it, attended to her business with haste, and washed her hands before returning to the sitting room.

When she arrived back, George was sitting up and stretching. He looked over at her with a sleepy smile. '

'Sorry I woke you,' she said with a shy smile, walking back over to the lounge and sitting down beside him.

'That's okay,' he said, moving close to her. 'I shouldn't sleep out here anyway – I always wake up with a dreadfully sore back when I do.'

Before she had a chance to respond, his mouth descended onto hers in a kiss that sucked the breath out of her. She kissed him back, suckling his bottom lip for a moment before opening her mouth to let his begging tongue enter. The frenzied kiss continued, each only coming up for breath when absolutely necessary. His hands were everywhere – rubbing her back, massaging her hips, and working their way upwards until one of them finally caressed the underside of her breasts. She moaned her approval as he let that same hand glide beneath her shirt, working its way up to grasp her bra-clad breast.

His hand found the clasp between her breasts, plucking at it frantically until it came undone, and as the cups moved aside, his hand found her bare breast, his nimble fingers plucking at her nipple, which hardened even more under his ministrations. She moaned into his mouth, pressing her chest forward, encouraging him to touch her more. She broke the kiss a moment later, pulling back just enough to reach the buttons of her shirt. She frantically ripped at the buttons and tore off the shirt and bra at the same time, exposing her upper body to him fully.

The desire in his eyes told her that she'd made the right decision. Without breaking eye contact, she moved to undo the buttons of his waistcoat, followed by his shirt, which she pulled out of his trousers and pushed both layers to the floor. His chest was pale, but broad and strong, the muscles wiry. They rippled slightly as she touched his skin, amazed by how smooth and hairless he was compared to Ron, with only a light dusting of red hair around his nipples. He wasn't a body-builder, but he was trim and fit, and the she welcomed the sight, amazed that he was allowing her to see him.

'Let me finish undressing you,' he whispered a little hoarsely.

'Okay,' she answered, the huskiness in her voice a surprise to her.

He reached for the zipper at the side of the skirt she wore, drawing it down slowly. He urged her to stand, which she did willingly. Letting the skirt slide to the floor, he grasped the top of her winter tights and knickers, peeling both of them down her legs and tugging them off, tossing them to the pile of clothing building on the floor of his sitting room. She felt a little embarrassed as he drank in her naked form, but she needn't have if his dilated eyes were anything to go by. He stood up then and unzipped his own trousers, dropping them and his underwear in one go also.

Hermione admired his long, toned legs, following them all the way up to his groin, where his erection stood out proudly from the rest of him. It was of a reasonable size, she noted: long and thick with a pearly liquid glistening at the tip. He reached down with one of his hands and grasped it, giving it a quick stroke, all the while smirking at her. She smiled back at him, walking towards him and allowing him to wrap his arms around her. He kissed her hard, his erect cock pressing into her hip as he did so. She felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach followed by warmth in her own groin at the prospect of what was to come.

It had been a long time since Hermione had last slept with a man. It had been almost a year before, and the guy had been the Muggle twin of a witch she attended classes with. They'd met at a College party, and she'd gone home with him and they'd had messy, drunken sex. She saw the guy for a short while afterwards, but realised it wouldn't work out and had ended it.

This was different though. George was someone she cared about deeply – who knew, maybe she was even a little bit in love with him. This time it was going to matter. He wasn't just some guy she met at a party. Anything that happened between them was going to affect their relationship for the rest of their lives. She looked up into his eyes and saw that there was affection as well as desire in their deep brown depths. With the reassurance that he truly wanted her, she threw herself into another kiss.

A moment later she was startled when he hoisted her up into his arms, squealing loudly as she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck.

'Let's relocate to somewhere a little more comfortable, hmm?' he said, walking towards his bedroom.

He deposited her in the centre of his huge bed, scrambling onto it afterwards, his face looming over hers. She smiled, reaching up to stroke his brow and cheek, letting her fingers slide through his hair and down to where his ear had been sliced away. She felt him tense a little at that, so she moved to sit up slightly, and brought his head closer, tilting it and pressing her lips gently against the place where his ear had been. That seemed to relax him, so she released him once more and lay back against the pillows behind her.

'You are so beautiful,' he whispered reverently, his hand travelling down her body, stroking her breasts and hip before his fingers found her centre.

She moaned, arching her body upwards involuntarily as his long fingers wriggled into her, the moisture she had been seeping serving to lubricate her. She felt his thumb brush against her clit and had to hold back the urge to shriek her pleasure. He pumped his fingers in and out of her for a while, his mouth dropping down to her breasts to kiss and suckle her nipples as he played with her. She could feel herself winding up towards an orgasm, and was startled when he removed his fingers and mouth from his task suddenly.

'What are you doing?' she whispered, opening her eyes and gazing up at him.

'This,' he replied, lining his erection up with her sex and slowly beginning to press himself within her.

The exquisite fullness she felt was unmatched by any sexual experience she'd ever had before. He held himself still within her for a second, allowing her to accommodate his girth. She urged him to move with a gentle wriggle of her hips, to which he responded by withdrawing nearly all the way out before plunging back in – hard. Her hips bucked at the suddenness, but she enjoyed it all the same.

'Fuck,' he gasped as her muscles clenched around him slightly.

'I'm so close,' Hermione admitted, ashamed at how little stimulation she required to find her completion.

He smiled, leaning down and kissing her tenderly, even as he began to move within her again. 'Then come for me, Hermione,' he whispered against her lips.

At his words, her whole body tightened before a strong orgasm washed over her, tightening the muscles of her sex around his cock, even as he continued to move within her. She heard his laboured breathing even though her body was still quaking and trembling, and felt him pick up his pace, slamming into her repeatedly. After a few more hard thrusts, she felt his body stiffen and relished the sound of his moan as he came. She could feel the warm liquid that his cock spewed forth and the throbbing of his member as her still-clenching muscles milked it.

After a couple of minutes, he withdrew, collapsing beside her in a tired, messy heap. Hermione smile at him before casting a cleansing charm wandlessly on the two of them. She felt George snuggle up to her, spooning against her on the bed as the covers magically wriggled out from beneath them and covered them both fully.

'Thank you,' he whispered, nuzzling the back of her neck.

'No, thank you,' she replied, wriggling herself against him to find a comfortable position.

She heard his breathing even out soon after and knew he had fallen asleep. Closing her eyes, Hermione allowed herself to fall back into slumber, a smile curving her lips.

* * *

George nervously stood in Hermione's flat, pacing back and forth in front of her fireplace as he waited for her to finish getting ready.

They were expected at The Burrow at midday for Christmas lunch, but they had unfortunately become distracted after waking up that morning, and were running late as a result. He breathed out in relief as she rushed out of her room into the sitting room, trying to fasten a silver chain around her neck. He walked over to her and took the necklace from her, urging her to turn around so he could help her to put it on.

'There,' he announced as she spun around to face him again. 'Now you look perfect.'

She reached up to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. 'I feel a bit frumpy,' she said with a grimace, tugging at the bottom of her teal-coloured knit sweater.

He held her at arms length and took in the sweater, in combination with the black winter tights she was wearing beneath her cream-coloured skirt that fell just above her knees. She looked sweet – just like his Hermione. He pulled her back and tilted her chin up, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

'Beautiful,' he said with a smile.

She blushed, but didn't argue with him that time. 'All right, let's go or we'll be extremely late,' she said with a soft sigh.

George put his arms around her and, after they made sure that the place was secure, Apparated them to The Burrow with a loud 'crack'.

* * *

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a challenge on the now defunct Granger Enchanted archive. The prompt chosen for this story is: Given her pick of jobs after the war, Hermione surprises everyone by using her inheritance (her newly restored parents have cut off all contact and given her money) to help George Weasley bring laughter back to the wizarding world. I have taken some creative license with this, so the story might not follow the prompt exactly, and for that, I apologise.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta for all of her help with this story.


End file.
